Dramatics
by randomlvr1
Summary: It's only when every body and breath except his own have stilled that the magnitude of what he's just done really hits him.


_Title: _Dramatics  
_Characters/pairings: East Asia, Korea/China if you squint really hard, stand on your head, and chant 'Padiddle!' three times  
__Summary: "It's only when every body and breath except his own have stilled, that the magnitude of what he's just done really hits him."  
__Rating: K+ - Not exactly Sesame Street material, but still pretty clean.  
__Notes: Don't ask me where this came from, I really have not the faintest inkling. -A- I'll probably end up deleting this, but, for now, enjoy~!_

**_Oh, and please go vote in my poll~!_**

* * *

It's only when every body and breath except his own have stilled that the magnitude of what he's just done really hits him. He finds himself kneeling in the sea of broken bodies, his weapons dropped and his head caught between his hands.

_That's weird . . . I thought I was standing . . . _

It was the only way, he assures himself, it was either him or them. The answer was so obviously clear. There was no other alternative.

He bites back tears and the scream that is clawing at his throat. He hits the grass with a fist, flinching back violently when he hears a sickening crunch under him.

_NO! I had to do it! I had to! I had to . . ._

His excuses fall out from under him one by one, leaving him dangling, scrabbling for the edge of sanity.

_Why did I do it? **Why?!** Aniki taught me better than this - he understands these types of things, and warned me! He said there are always other choices! Other alternatives!_

It's only when his throat is burning raw that he realizes that he's been screaming everything aloud. For the world to hear his guilt, his torment.

Then, he sees a flutter of life out of the corner of his blurring vision. The tears are suddenly gone, he's on his feet and he's clutching his makeshift weapon like a life line. He stands over the rebellious shimmer of life - it's mocking him, taunting him.

He snaps.

He's bringing the weapon down on the fallen soldier. Again. Again. Again. And then he's one his knees again, feeling so sickeningly satisfied.

_It's their own fault, always their fault . . . _

They hadn't even fought back. Oh yes, they had tried to run, but he had easily pursued them. It had been so maddeningly _easy_ to kill them. To _slaughter_ them. It had been their own fault.

Who had he been fooling? It was only ever his fault. His fault that so many innocent had died. His fault that there was innocent blood on his hands, face, body. His fault that-

"K-Korea?!"

Then he sees them. They're standing across the field - standing out amongst the sea of dead. It had been China, his _aniki_, that had called out to him. His eyes are wide, and he keeps blinking, as if he can blink away the scene in front of him. Then China turns to him - his eyes are so betrayed, so confused, so horrified, so _disgusted._

"W-What did you do~aru?!"

His question hangs unanswered in the air.

"How could you do this~aru?! How?!"

He's next to him now, on his knees and shaking his shoulders. With his blurry vision, he can see that China is crying openly.

"How could this happen?"

He sees Taiwan. Her face is also disgusted - disgusted _by him_ - and she's covering her face with her hands in an attempt to protect her senses from the smell. She turns, shaking her head, and runs back into the house, sobbing.

He sees Hong Kong. He's usually so emotionless - like Japan - but, right now, his eyes are large and he knows he doesn't want to believe what he's seeing. An arm wrapped around his abdomen, he runs after Taiwan silently.

He sees Japan. He's confused, so very confused. Then, his shoulders sag and he catches his head in his hands. He knows that-

"Korea-san? China-san? Would you please act more dignified? They're just butterflies, so please stop being so dramatic."

"How could you do this Korea~aru?! I taught you never to kill~aru!" China demands, snapping out of his grief.

"I had to, _aniki_! I had to! It was either me or them!" Korea sobs, throwing his fly swatter and bug spray on the ground.

Across the yard Hong Kong returns. "I'm sorry, I've always had a weak stomach, and Taiwan is on the couch right now, crying about how 'the pretty butterflies got murdered by Korea' - I'm sure she'll get over it. What have they done so far?"

Japan sighs. "Not much. They're just being dramatic."

Suddenly, China wipes away his tears and stands up proudly, offering a single hand to Korea. "Come on Korea, we have to get through this~aru. What's done has been done, and there is nothing we can do but survive~aru."

Korea jumps up, into his brother's arms, and sobs uncontrollably. "I can't believe I killed them!"

"I think they're getting over it, which is good seeing as we'll need as many hands as possible to clean up this mess," Japan remarks, sighing heavily and the hard work ahead.

" . . . Korea, how do you think 'fried butterflies in oyster sauce' would taste~aru?"

Korea sniffs loudy, wiping a loose sleeve across his face, leaving a bittersweet smile in its wake. "Pretty bad, _aniki_."

"Wait, are those _cameras_~aru_?_ Are you filming all of this~aru?!"


End file.
